


Biting Back

by BananaStickers



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sex Chemistry, Smut, Team Heats, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaStickers/pseuds/BananaStickers
Summary: Sex bonding for chemistry has never been fun for Kris.  He’ll take a knot, but he’s not going to beg for it.  He’s not going to roll over and make it easy.Kris may be an Omega, but he’s an alpha in bed.Lucky for him, he finally has a D partner that understands.
Relationships: Brian Dumoulin/Kris Letang
Comments: 25
Kudos: 228





	Biting Back

**Author's Note:**

> The Athletic recently published a graph showing the defensemen who have been paired together for the most minutes, and out popped this. Tentatively planned in this universe is also Jones/Werenski and Lindell/Klingberg, maybe Parayko/Scandella. Feel free to hit me with your requests.
> 
> This is not related to my other Dumo/Tanger WIP (Kitten) but they've apparently invaded my brain in multiple universes.

The Penguins’ heat room is huge, spacious, and this year it has twice the amount of pillows as it did previously. Next to Kris, Marcus Pettersson - the reason behind said pillows - makes a satisfied noise as he steps inside, immediately starting to gather them up to make his nest.

There’s a huge bed in the center of the room, and Kris claims it like he owns it, flopping down with a sigh. Already, he can feel his traitorous body start to claw at his soul and sanity, dark whispers about what he needs, what he truly _wants._ It’s not true, though. Biology might say he wants an Alpha to take care of him, it might beg for a baby, but Kris has been through this temporary insanity many times and knows its false promises. He is no house Omega, knocked up and barefoot in the kitchen. He is a professional athlete, an NHL player, an All-Star, a _champion._

“Tanger, give me one of your pillows.” Jack Johnson’s hovering over the bed, breaking Kris’ internal mutterings, making grabby hands at one of the pillows he’s splayed on. “C’mon, just one.”

“What the fuck, there’s so _many - “_ Kris glances around, catching his eye on the mattress in the corner. It’s absolutely piled with pillows, so many that Marcus is barely visible through them all, just a few stretched limbs as he luxuriates in his nest, which apparently is an epic pillow fortress. “Petey has like 40 of them! Get one from him!”

“I’m not gonna disturb his _nest,”_ Jack complains. There’s already a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “You don’t even nest! What do you need them all for?”

“You don’t nest either,” Kris grumbles, throwing a pillow at Jack’s midsection. It hits with a meanly satisfying _oof._

Jack tips up his head and scoffs. “I do nest,” he says. “Just not quite like Petey over there. I prefer blankets. But like, at least one pillow, too.”

“Don’t know why you need it, Marino is gonna have your face burrowed in those blankets in ten seconds flat.”

Jack laughs. “Don’t be jealous I get the rookie,” he says. “At least it’ll be over fast.”

Kris used to pray for these sessions to be over fast. Except for that one year he got paired with Sid - injuries completely wiping out the A-O balance on the D corps - he’d always felt awkward about baring his body and soul to a teammate. Kris quickly learned that most Alphas are lumbering idiots, constantly shocked when Kris wasn’t the stereotypical Omega, begging and whining for a knot. It’s like they don’t know how to act when the Omega isn’t a simpering wreck underneath them.

That never seemed to bother Brian, though. Thank God. Still, if he had a choice of being here - trapped in a heat room with his teammates, who are also descending into sex-driven madness - and anywhere else, he knows what he’d choose, anytime.

Kris shucks his clothes off, then lets himself doze on the bed while they wait. He’s not sure how long it’s been - one hour, maybe two - but when he blinks awake, the lights are lower, and there’s a soft classical music playing. He can smell his teammates, one on either side of him: Jack smells kind of like turf, fresh sod, and Petey - he swears Petey smells like peaches, some sort of sweet fruit. They’re amplified by their heats, and Kris can hear Marcus panting quietly, overripe and ready for Schultzy. On the other side, Jack lays quietly stoic, curled on his side, arms wrapped around himself to self-soothe while he waits.

Kris takes stock of himself, licking his lips. Goosebumps are prickled down his arms and legs, and it feels like there’s a tight squeeze in his chest, nerves and anticipation and agony all wrapped into one. When he moves his legs, they glide past each other effortlessly, slick painting the entire inside and back of his thighs already. He’s hard. He could jerk off, but he knows from experience that it won’t do any good, like chasing an orgasm by scratching your stomach or pinching a nipple. Right now, there’s only one thing his body wants.

“Get them in here right fucking now,” he calls out, because he knows the team trainers are watching and monitoring, at least this first part before the Alphas come in. Officially, they’re supposed to wait until the heat pheromones reach a certain threshold - it helps the bond take better - but fuck it. He’s ready, Jack and Petey are obviously ready. What the fuck are they _waiting_ for?

And it’s not like the Alphas need time to get ready. They’re _always_ ready to go.

It’s not long until Kris can smell them coming down the hallway. Rookies especially always stink of rut, unable to contain themselves, and Kris can scent Marino from a mile away, his jittery nerves and anticipation. He already smells like he’s ready to burst. Jack was probably right about it being quick.

The door creaks open, and Marino peeks in first until someone - Schultzy, almost definitely - gives him a nudge forward. He steps inside, looks at every square inch, from Kris to Jack to Marcus and back again. Jack sits up and clears his throat, looking wry, and finally Marino focuses on him. At least Jack’s got a sense of humor about the whole thing, Kris thinks. Kris wouldn’t have the patience for a rookie.

Schultzy gives him a full once-over, winking, but quickly turns his attention to Marcus. There’s a melancholy scent from him; he misses Olli terribly, Kris knows, and especially right now. They’d spent years of heat and bonding together, and now he’s got to get used to someone new. In Chicago, Olli’s probably pining just as hard. But Kris can tell the moment Schultzy gets over it, taking a deep breath of Marcus’ scent and losing himself in it.

Behind them is Brian. He doesn’t look around the room, doesn’t spare even one single glance towards Jack and Petey, his eyes on Kris and Kris alone. That strokes his Omega hindbrain ego, and he lets himself luxuriate in the attention as Brian quickly crosses the room towards him. 

Clutched in his hand is the traditional Omega gift, which Schultzy and Marino are bringing as well. All of them are some kind of food gifts, different for each Omega. The Penguins used to allow the Alphas to choose their own gifts, until that disastrous choice from James Neal to Geno, and ever since then the team has both chosen and supplied the gift to the Alphas. Kris peeked at the list and he knows what he’s getting. Same as every year: peanut butter cups. A few years ago he changed from Reese’s to the more organic and fair-trade brand of Justin’s, and it’s a smart choice if very boring. Kris eats two of them every single day.

But there’s a box in Brian’s hand when he kneels down next to the bed to present his gift, and that’s no Justin’s peanut butter cups. Kris can see French writing, and he leans over. “What’s that?”

The box is shaped almost like a large ring box, and Brian cracks it open to show Kris. He can smell peanut butter wafting out of it. “Peanut butter truffles,” he says. Now his eyes are averted, down on the ground, until Kris accepts the gift. Very traditional. “I saw the list. But those weren’t good enough for this. Duper helped me pick it out.”

“Brian Dumoulin, did you just break the rules?” Kris sets a hand on Brian’s jaw - _gift accepted_ \- and Brian looks up with a grin.

“You gonna tell on me?”

Kris snorts. “You gonna do everything I say today?” He already knows the answer; Brian nods to confirm. “Then I let it slide. _This_ time.”

It’s Brian’s turn to snort, because they both know Kris would never tell, and Kris keeps his hand on Brian’s jaw as he sets aside the truffles before yanking him in for a kiss. This close, Brian’s smell permeates the air, coating and covering him, finally strong enough to break through Marino’s first-rut desperation. He smells like fall, like pumpkin pie and cinnamon cookies, and Kris wants to bury his face in Brian’s neck and scent and never let go.

Brian is still dressed, but Kris doesn’t need him naked yet, not for this next part. If there’s one benefit to being an Omega, it’s the sheer amount of orgasms, and Kris is going to get as many as he can out of Brian’s mouth. They kiss until Brian starts getting nippy, teeth gently nicking Kris’ lower lip as his own rut starts to urge him to _bite_ and _claim,_ and then Kris pulls away and shoves Brian’s head down his body, not gently. They’ve been together like this long enough that Brian doesn’t even need to ask, and he climbs on the bed between Kris’ legs, getting comfortable.

“That’s right, get comfy,” Kris says. “You’re gonna be there awhile, Dumo.”

Kris can hear Brian’s shaky breath. “May I please - “

So fucking traditional. “Yes,” he growls, and Brian buries his face between Kris’ legs and presses his mouth right up against Kris’ hole. It’s like a little appetizer to the main event, Kris has always thought - a few orgasms wrung out with Brian’s mouth and fingers. He’s not going to allow Brian to let up, much less get naked, until he’s had at least two.

The first orgasm, just a little thing, not even enough to make a dent in his desire, comes while Brian is sucking wetly against his entrance. Brian moans, like it’s _him_ that just came and not Kris, and he finally lifts a hand to get some fingers inside Kris. Two glide in, easy as anything, and Kris’ legs twitch involuntarily while they’re spread and up in the air. He’s always been wet, with so much slick; there’s never really a need for this foreplay with him. From the second Brian came in the door, Kris was ready for it.

But just because he doesn’t need it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.

Kris closes his eyes and lets the second orgasm build. “Slow,” he mutters, because he really wants to drag this one out, wants to enjoy it, and Brian rubs his fingers gently back and forth against Kris’ prostate, so long and slow that it’s a shock his fingers don’t cramp.

Next to him, he can hear Schultzy whispering praise and sweet words to Petey, who’s making little shocked squeals at whatever Schultzy is doing with his fingers. On the other side, Marino’s already rutting into Jack, who’s goading him on about breeding him. That’s how Kris comes a second time, listening to Jack talk about Johnny _putting a baby in him_, even though that’s just dirty talk; they all have their birth control shot.

Well, it’s _probably_ just dirty talk, but maybe...Jack is 33 this year. Kris has known Omegas far younger than that to lose their damn minds about a baby.

Brian will wait for Kris’ permission to stop, he knows, not like most Alphas who would be shoving inside him by now no matter what he wants. He thinks about letting Brian back up - Kris can smell his desire, his desperation, getting thicker by the minute - but in the end, he decides he wants a third. Brian stays down dutifully, and this time he’s not gentle or slow, finger-fucking Kris hard through his third orgasm. Right before Kris comes again, Brian puts his mouth over Kris’ cock, lets him come on the warm heat of his tongue. It’s something most Alphas would never allow during rut, a dick in their mouth, and Kris feels a sudden and helpless wave of fondness wash over him.

He gently tugs on Brian’s hair, permission to get out between his legs, and when Brian emerges it looks like he’s just come back from war. His mouth, beard, and even neck are smeared with Kris’ slick, his cheeks and lips are cherry-red, and there’s a singular, intense focus that Kris only sees during the toughest games. This time, his focus is squarely on Kris.

“Come here,” Kris says, pulling him up for a kiss. He lets his tongue swab around Brian’s mouth, tasting his own scent and Brian’s mingling together in the slick and the sex. It tastes good. _It feels right,_ his brain insists, but that’s the biology talking, and Kris is slave to no biology. “Get undressed. I want you.” He’s proud of his voice for not shaking; the orgasms have taken some of the insanity out of his brain, but listening to Jack and Marino go for round two, and Schultzy and Petey fucking in the other corner, is too much. He’d never admit it aloud, but he needs it, he fucking _needs it._

One of the seams in Brian’s shirt pops as he gets himself out of his clothes, and once again that appeals to his ego, Brian ruining his clothes in his desperation to get to Kris. He stays on his back; there’s a time and a place for what Jack and Marino are doing, Jack taking it hard on his knees, but Kris wants this first one face-to-face. He wants to _see_ Brian, to watch him, the first guy he’s wanted to do that with since Sid.

“Tanger,” Brian says, reverentially, as he gently kneels between Kris’ thighs, spreading them. His cock nudges against Kris’ thigh for a moment before he lines himself up, the blunt pressure of something at Kris’ entrance. Even for how wet he is, Brian is big. Most alphas are, but Brian especially. Kris has never been one of those Omega size queens, but he sees the appeal now. “Thank you, Kris,” he says - another very traditional thing to do, to give thanks before they fuck, but with a slight subversion. The tradition is to simply say _Omega,_ reduce them both down to biology, but that’s never been Brian’s style.

Brian doesn’t call him Omega. He calls him _Kris._

Both men groan as Brian slides home, never stopping the slow glide until he’s fully seated, and Kris feels filled up. Finally, that ache in his chest subsides, like Kris has found something he never knew he was missing, but is now complete. He can’t help the whimper as Brian withdraws, but it’s only to slide right back in. He wants to beg, everything in him tells him to beg, to make sure Alpha knows how much he needs the knot and the baby, but he won’t do it. Kris whimpers again, the only acquiescence he’ll give.

“Kris,” Brian groans, like _he’s_ the helpless one, and tucks his arms around Kris’ body. Suddenly he’s surrounded on all sides, Brian holding him tight - almost uncomfortably tight - as he drives into Kris’ wet heat, over and over again. Kris can’t even move, and he should hate it, but he doesn’t. He just wants more.

His next orgasm takes him by surprise, pulsing down Brian’s stomach as they’re stuck close together, and he can hear Brian gasp as his hole flutters and sucks Brian’s cock in even deeper. “Don’t come yet,” Kris demands, arching up. It’s not that Brian isn’t going to be able to recover and knot him again later, but part of him is demanding another orgasm, and the other part of him - the one grasping for command, fighting against his body - is looking for the last semblance of control here before he loses it all on Brian’s knot and bite.

Brian whines, buries his face in Kris’ neck, and slows down just to a roll of his hips. His arms still encircle Kris, and instead of thrusting he pulls Kris down, grinding him on his cock, over and over and over again. Brian finds Kris’ scent gland and licks at it, long swipes of his tongue, preparing it for the bite, and every touch sends shocky spikes of pleasure down Kris’ spine. Between that and the slow and steady grind against his prostate, it’s not long before he’s jerking through his next orgasm.

“May I,” Brian whispers against the skin, and instead of answering Kris lifts his chin, baring his neck for Brian, for the Alpha.

The next few thrusts are so hard that they nearly take Kris’ breath away. He can feel it, Brian getting close, his swelling knot coring Kris open until he’s making soft little cries in the back of his throat, unable to stop himself. It hurts, and yet it feels so fucking good, pain and pleasure mixing until they become one and the same.

Brian comes at the same time he digs his teeth into Kris’ neck and _bites_, and Kris’ world goes white with the pain-pleasure.

Suddenly, the frayed thread of the bond from last year’s sex knits itself whole, and there’s a bright burst of joy that comes through it: Brian’s feelings. It’s joy and satisfaction and fondness - 

No, not fondness. Something more, something deeper. Love, Kris might be tempted to say, some feeling he’s only felt when Sid bit him and bonded with him. Perhaps not even romantic love, but a deep devotion that turns his limbs to jelly and his brain to mush.

_Submit_, his brain whispers, and for the first time he doesn’t fight it, lets himself go limp under Brian’s teeth, lets Brian do what he will. He submits, and goes under to the pleasurable endorphins, lets his body float in that state that Omega romance novels are always fawning over. It’s his first time allowing himself to go under, not fighting the bite and the knot. He surrenders to the warmth, and it’s indescribable, addictive, better than any orgasm he’s ever had. “Alpha,” he says muzzily, feeling like he’s been broken and is being stitched together by the most loving and careful attention. “Alpha,” he whispers again, and Brian growls in response.

When rational thought returns, they’re still knotted together, and Brian is gently licking the wound closed on his neck. Kris pulls his head up, and there’s a bright smear of blood on Brian’s mouth - Kris’ blood. He looks a little more rational and clear-headed now, and beams at Kris. “I felt it,” he says, voice tinged with awe. “After the bite. You came, but it was more than that. It was - well. You know.”

Brian’s right; he doesn’t need to describe it. They both felt it. Kris reaches down between them, their bellies tacky with Kris’ come, swipes his fingers through and holds up his hand to Brian’s mouth: something to make him feel a little more in control after that deeply submissive place he was just in. Brian sucks each finger clean of Kris’ come and then laps at Kris’ palm, and he does it with a smile. Kris has another wave of fondness towards his partner, and he can tell Brian feels it, because one comes right back at him.

Kris feeds him a few more swipes of come before Brian nudges him and bares his neck. “Still want to?” he asks. For the last few years Kris has insisted on biting Brian right back, as he’s always done with Alphas - _fair is fair, you get a bite and I get one too_ \- and whereas last year Kris felt Brian’s hesitation over the unnatural act, Brian’s body horrified at baring his neck to anyone, this year Kris feels only calm through the soul bond, and maybe even anticipation.

The knot is nearly down, so Kris rolls them over so he’s on top. Brian’s still inside him for the moment, so he grinds down while he bends over and bites Brian, right at the juncture where his own gland would be if he were an Omega. Biting Brian does nothing for their soul bond except make him feel better, so he sucks a purple hickey into the spot and to his pleased astonishment, he can feel Brian’s shivery pleasure at the act. “You like this?” he asks, biting another mark on the other side of Brian’s neck.

Brian’s hand comes up to cup the back of Kris’ neck, running his fingers through the hair that Kris has grown so long. “Not with anyone else,” he says, voice rough. “Just you, Tanger.”

“Just me,” Kris says, biting again.

He leaves it at three hickeys, for the moment; by the time they’re truly done, with Kris’ heat broken, they will have fucked another couple times, and Brian’s neck will be a cornucopia of purple and red bruises. Kris still remembers the media in Montreal last year, demanding answers out of Brian, why he’d let an _Omega_ do that to him, and Brian had simply shook his head and said that Kris could do whatever he wants. He lets the memory warm him, the smell of Brian circle him as he sets his head on Brian’s chest and starts drifting off to sleep.

He doesn’t realize he’s purring, the ultimate Omega sign of happiness and nothing he’s _ever_ done during heats, until Brian lifts his head, shocked. Kris can feel the surprise and pleasure through the bond, and he shakes his head. “Don’t get cocky,” he admonishes Brian, whose smile grows wider.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t tell anyone,” he grumbles, laying his head back down. The other defensemen in the room are too far away to hear his quiet purrs, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits this to anyone.

“Just for us,” Brian promises, kissing the top of his head.

Kris grunts, turns his face to Brian’s neck to inhale the cinnamon and pumpkin and fall smells, and falls asleep purring.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first a/b/o! A trope which used to be a HARD squick for me and now it'll be my next longfic (Sid/Nate). Insert Paul Rudd "who would have thought?" gif here. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
